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From: Don Winslow <dwin2001@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 08:05:10 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} The Odd couple in Room 210 {Don Winslow} (part 2) (D/s, f/F, sexual humil., foot fetish) 
Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2002 18:10:04 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Margo 2.txt" begin>

The Odd Couple in Room 210 (f/F, sexual humil., foot fetish)
By Don  Winslow
Part 2 of 2


The sprightly girl with the bouncy ponytail looked around nervously 
before slipping into the service entrance to scurry, two steps at a 
time, up the metal stairs to the second floor.  By using the back 
stairs, Petra hoped to avoid any other staff members who might wonder 
what she was doing there -- in uniform, while clearly off duty.  That 
she wear her work clothes was something he insisted on: her waitresses' 
uniform, the light-weight linen dress in Dreamchaser's colors -- royal 
blue, trimmed with pink. He had told her exactly what she was to wear: 
the uniform dress, but no stockings or pantyhose -- he made that clear.  
Just her uniform, and a pair of open, high heeled sandals. 


She caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror as she emerged on 
the second floor: a sprightly girl with straight, caramel-colored hair 
drawn smoothly back to fall in that perky pony tail of hers.  Her heart 
was racing as she paused, took a deep breath, fluffed up her bangs, 
made one final check of her uniform.  Her nervous hands checked the row 
of small plastic buttons down the front, the flat, open collar.  They 
passed lightly down her modest bosom, smoothening the tapering fit at 
her trim waist before straightening the loose skirt that fell down bare 
legs.


Gathering up her courage, she knocked softly at the door of room 210.  
The door opened a crack; Nick was looking out at her.  He smiled that 
smug, self-pleased grin of his.  The opening door revealed him to be 
barefoot, and wearing nothing but a pair of pants, the fine silky 
trousers from one of his dark suits.  The nervous girl tried not to 
stare as her eyes quickly took in his handsome physique, the bulky 
shoulders, thick chest and tight-muscled belly.  The guy obviously kept 
himself in shape!  The heavy chain he wore around his neck was embedded 
in curly black fleece that thickened at the center of his chest and 
dribbled straight down his front in a wispy trail pointing towards his 
navel, and beyond.  The belted pants rode low on his hips.


Under the full-length windows with their superb ocean view, she saw 
Margo squatted on a footstool placed before a large red chair.   The 
blonde was still wearing the sundress she had on at breakfast, and she 
sat huddled over, arms wrapped around her steepled knees, white pumps 
set side by side on the thick carpet, skirt draped down over her white-
stockinged, tightly closed legs. The pale face she turned towards their 
guest was tense, the big brown eyes anxious, although she did manage a 
brittle smile. 


'Like a doe caught in the headlights,' Petra thought, and she wavered 
in the doorway.  But Nick caught her hesitancy, and took the girl by 
the elbow and swept her along, ushering her into the room.  Nick led a 
suddenly reluctant Petra over to the red chair; Margo stood up to move 
out of the way.  


The two women stood eyeing one another like two wary wrestlers, Margo 
the taller of the two, the one with the decidedly more mature and 
feminine figure was having her usual poise tested as she struggled with 
an acute sense of embarrassment, nervously biting her lower lip.  
Petra, smaller, more slightly built: a party girl, who wasn't at all 
sure just what she had gotten herself into, still thought of heading 
for the door.  Both women were aware of the simmering sexuality, the 
presence of the bare-chested man, the undercurrent of lesbianism, the 
awkwardness of the situation they found themselves in, the scary 
uncertainty of it all.  Margo welcomed the girl like a hostess greeting 
a guest at a cocktail party, although her voice was strained, and she 
had a hard time meeting Petra's eyes. The two women actually shook 
hands; Petra being struck by the absurdity of the situation!  The 
tension in the room was so strong you could cut it with a knife. But if 
the women were clearly flustered and uncomfortable, Nick was his usual 
smooth self: a self-assured, cocky male; sly, reckless and looking for 
fun.


Petra took the big armchair, while the blonde was sent off to get them 
drinks, with a playful slap on the skirted rearend.


****      ****     ****


Once drinks had been served, the blonde stationed herself before 
Petra's chair to wait docilely with hands at her sides, downcast eyes 
studying the pointed tips of her white pumps.  Nick sitting across the 
room, a gin and tonic by his side, seemed totally unconcerned about the 
tension between the women.  Petra watched him take out a cigar and take 
his time lighting it, studying the glowing tip, before settling back 
into the cradling curve of his easy chair.


"Come on girls, time we got started.  Pet, you're first.  Take your 
shoes off.  No wait!" he hastily added.
  "On second thought: the slut'll do it for you.  Just tell her."


"What?"


"Tell her to take your shoes off.  Go on. She'll do it." he said, with 
a mildly impatient wave of his cigar. 


"I...I couldn't.  I don't think I should..."


"Sure you can!  Go on, just tell her to take your shoes off for you," 
he said with elaborate slowness, as if explaining things to  slow-
witted child.  " I told you before: the slut'll do whatever you tell 
her to.  Now, tell her!"


Petra turned to the attractive blonde in the creamy sundress, took a 
deep breath, and tried the mandated words.


"Take off my shoes."  The words addressed to the lowered blond head, 
came out in a barely-audible, hushed whisper.


Petra held her breath and waited, every fiber keyed up with burgeoning 
anticipation.  She saw the older woman swallow her own rise of 
excitement, reach down to gather up two handfuls of skirt and raise the 
hem out of the way so that once down on her knees, she was kneeling 
directly on the carpeted floor before the young waitress.


Margo bent over to unbuckle the strap of the left sandal, lifted the 
foot, removed the delicate sandal with its high heel - a thick wedge of 
cork.  She then proceeded to remove its mate.


"Yeah, that's good.  Now, make her kiss your feet."


"Oh!  No, I couldn't do that!"


"Go on.  Give her your foot.  Make her kiss it.  She'll do it, I tell 
you.  She really digs it, but the thing is you have to make her do it.  
Like I told you, she's kinda shy."  He laughed at this little joke of 
his.


Petra looked down on the bowed head of the woman who knelt as her feet. 
Suddenly, a thrill of wild elation shot through her, hard on its heels 
-- a tremendous rush of power shook her, leaving the girl breathless, 
tingling with excitement.


Boldly she thrust a foot at the face of the submissive blonde.


"Kiss it!" she hissed, in a clear voice, that was suddenly confident 
and a harder edge than she intended.


Margo sat back on her heels as she took the proffered foot in both 
hands.  Bending down over it, she obediently brought her lips to kiss 
the top of the foot and then pay homage to young Petra's toes.  The 
foot being offered to her was narrow and delicate; long toes curled in 
the sheerest of pleasure at the first touch of that wet, darting 
tongue.


Petra sighed in bliss when she felt warm, soft lips engulf her big toe 
and begin to gently suck.   She was elated to look down on this 
beautiful older woman whose head was bobbing gently as her lips and 
tongue paid their slavishly tribute to the girl's stiffened toes. Petra 
squirmed back in her seat, her hips arching up in instinctive response 
to the creamy rise of pleasure.  The blonde head moved with mechanical 
persistence, mindlessly making its way from one toe to the next, till 
the thrills became unbearable.


"Nooooo," the quivering girl moaned, gently pushing the head away, 
forcing her groveling slave to give up the extended foot.


Margo shifted back to settle onto her tucked-in heels, there to kneel 
with head hung low, huddled shoulders heaving; the girl's bare foot 
cradled in the lap of her thin dress.  She was flushed; obviously 
aroused.


After a moment she picked up Petra's foot in both hands and brought it 
to her bosom.  Placing the sole overtop of her left breast, she leaned 
forward, pressing her breast against the bottom of the girl's foot.
Petra smiled, inanely pleased.  She pressed her pointed toes back into 
the pillow of the other woman's covered breast.  Wiggling toes dug into 
the pliant, yielding tittie-flesh, playing with the wobbly mound.  
Then, with her sole placed squarely over the gently mounded tit she 
pressed ...hard, squashing the warm softness she found there under the 
smooth thin cloth, sending the kneeling woman rocking back on her 
heels.   Margo arched back and moaned, a low shivering moan.  Petra 
grinned and withdrew her foot.


Nick had largely been forgotten by the two women, engrossed as they 
were in the single-minded pursuit of pleasure.  When Petra remembered 
that he was watching, she looked up to find him sitting there with his 
fly open and his prick sticking out in an obscene erection!  One hand 
was on his cock.  He held his stiffened manhood loosely in curled 
fingers, and his hand was pumping slowly, languidly as he kept his eyes 
on the girlie action.  He just kept fingering his exposed penis when 
his eyes met Petra's, and he gave the girl a big, shit-eatin' grin.


"See Baby, that was nice wasn't it?  I could tell you really dug it.  
Yeah, you could really get off on having another chick to order around, 
making her do you wherever you want.  Want some more? Why don't you get 
her to take her clothes off?"


Petra, still recovering from the repeated thrills the foot worshiping 
had subjected her to, basked in a warm afterglow and felt a surprising 
surge of confidence.  Her initial hesitancy had melted away; she felt 
bolder, stronger, more ready to take command.  She looked down at the 
kneeling blonde.


"Take your clothes off," she said.  A simple declarative sentence.


 "No, not like that!" His impatience was growing.  "Say it like you 
mean it!  Go on, order her around. Make the bitch strip."


Petra took a deep breath and tried again, this time more forcefully: 
"Get up! Take your clothes off...all of them!   Now!"


She watched in awe as her elegant slave drew herself up, and rose 
obediently to her feet, to stand before her young mistress.


"Hurry up, Slut!  Strip!  I want you bare-assed naked.  Now!"


"Yeah, Baby!"  Nick crowed, overjoyed.


Petra looked at the man with the naked cock, who flashed her that evil 
grin of his, and then gave her a huge, conspiratorial wink.




End of Part 2
The End
2002 Copyright, Don Winslow
Comments: dwin2001@yahoo.com.   More of Don Winslow's erotic fiction 
may be found at:  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/Files/Authors/Don_Winslow



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